


The Writer and the Forest Spirit

by Nanenna



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanenna/pseuds/Nanenna
Summary: When a young man with a desire to write great works moves out to a country town the last thing he expected to meet was a creature right out of some old folk tale. Mentions of nudity, though nothing explicit.





	1. Unexpected Meeting

On a well traveled highway, just outside of a small farming village, where the nearby forest’s trees were just beginning to thin into the flat expanse carved out for civilization, sat a tiny cottage. It was a rather homely cottage, worn on the edges with an over grown garden full of weeds, all of which were shielded from prying eyes of its nearest neighbors by a thin screen of trees and a well placed hill. Inside a man with dark hair and well worn clothes gave a thin-lipped stare to his pantry. It was a well stocked pantry, full of various food items, two of which were still warm. With a slight sound of unhappiness Fakir shut the pantry and moved into the front room, he had some chores to attend to there he really couldn’t put off any longer. As he worked he glanced out the window, still missing curtains, and noticed a middle aged woman just rounding the gentle slope, the one that kept the nearby village out of sight, with a conspicuous basket hanging from her arm. Fakir’s cottage was the last house before the road entered the forest proper and there were no other buildings between him and the next village, some day’s walk away. Before he could think about it Fakir turned and fled into the kitchen, on the table was an old canvas bag he grabbed hastily before rushing through the kitchen door and out into the neglected garden. As he hopped the low, stone fence that separated his tiny oasis of civilization from the surrounding woods the only thing Fakir could think about was how he could not endure another visit from some farmer’s wife with a gift casserole used to gain entrance to “come in and see how he’s settled since moving in a month ago” but was really an excuse to scoff at his attempts at house keeping. Let her knock on his door and peer in his window, this would make the fifth visit he had to suffer through today and it was only barely after noon. No man could be blamed for skipping out on his fifth curious neighbor in one day. Two of them even happened to run into each other as one was just leaving, the one leaving decided to stay and act hostess for him, without even so much as a “by your leave,” and entertained the other. He had been forced to sit and listen to them prattle on about quilting bees and dress patterns for nearly half an hour before they both left, heads conveniently close to gossip about his home no doubt.

Fakir’s mad dash slowed to a leisurely pace, he was deep enough into the forest to not be followed now. He adjusted the heavy canvas bag he carried, when he first rushed from his home he had only grabbed it on instinct and now it was dragging heavily on his arm. The thought that his home wouldn’t be cause for farmers’ wives to gawk at if he stayed to care for it instead of always wandering off to the woods crossed his mind for a moment, but Fakir countered the unwanted thought with the retort that he would gladly stay home and take better care of his new cottage if he were not interrupted quite so often by nosy old women.

Before his thoughts had a chance to war any more Fakir came to his destination: a clearing in the forest containing a deep pool, some rocks, a great many wild flowers, and a half rotted log hosting a large growth of ferns. Because of how the log and ferns were tucked into the corner of the clearing the shadows fell dramatically over them no matter the time of day. The frazzled young man stood in the sunshine spilling into the clearing, took a deep breath, and then just stared into the shadowed woods for a time, this spot always refreshed his soul and set his hand twitching. He eagerly moved to his usual spot, the roots of an old oak tree sitting on slightly higher ground. So far, since finding this clearing, the roots of this particular oak had not been wet or hiding any unpleasant surprises while also affording a good view of the log and ferns that usually ended up being his focus. Once settled into his usual spot he unpacked his canvas bag: a solid piece of wood with a metal clip on one end, an abundance of papers clipped to the board, some with writing on them, and a fountain pen. Fakir flipped through the paper until he got to the last one with writing on it, briefly scanning over the words before putting pen to paper. There were frequent stops as he gazed, glassy eyed, at the scenery around him, but soon the sun and wind seemed to work some magic on him and his pen nigh flew across the page.

“What’cha doing?” Fakir’s pen skittered to a stop at the unexpected question, he had been so engrossed he hadn’t even noticed anyone walking up, let alone practically leaning over his shoulder. If there was one thing Fakir hated more than being interrupted it was someone attempting to read over his shoulder. He only hated it more because such people usually lead to interruptions anyway.

With barely a glance to his left, not far enough to actually see the intruder, he growled out, “I’m writing, do you mind?” Then turned back to his writing and attempted to pick his train of thought back up.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I’ve never seen anything like it, what do the marks mean?”

Fakir grit his teeth, not only was some child interrupting him, judging from the voice, but this child was so ignorant she didn’t even know what writing was. There was no way he could continue writing after such an interruption. “These ‘marks’ are letters and the are th-” Whatever he was about to say was lost in the ether because he had turned to look at the child who had interrupted him, a slim girl with tanned skin, freckles, bright hair, large, blue eyes, and not a stitch of clothing on her. Fakir sputtered and felt his face heat up as he first attempted to scoot sideways away from the girl then turned and face away while he covered his face with his papers. “Y-y-you’re naked!”

“Huh?” Fakir didn’t see it, but he was sure the nude girl had cocked her head, “What does ‘naked’ mean?”

Fakir was so flabbergasted he couldn‘t even form coherent thought for a full minute at least, first she doesn’t know what writing is and now she doesn’t know what naked is? Then something clicked, there was something strange about her ears, something he hadn’t noticed at first in the shock of her nudity. He turned slightly, trying to look at her from the corner of his eye without looking at her too hard. The girl was now standing in the spot he had just been sitting in, half leaned over as she looked at him with something in between concern and curiosity. Yes, definitely not a stitch of clothing on her, but he was strong and would look only at her face, even if he was sure he was blushing harder than he ever had in his life and would likely never stop after this. He found her ears, they weren’t normal at all. Long and pointed, sticking straight out of her head, and covered in fuzz the same color as her hair, they were definitely animal ears of some kind. He wasn’t sure what, cow? Sheep? Either way she was not human, likely some sort of fae creature, and he had read enough folklore to know that he absolutely did not want to get mixed up with that.

“Are you okay,” She asked with concern. “You sure act strange.”

“Yes, yes, just fine thank you. It’s just… I just realized how late it has grown and I need to return home.” Fakir quickly stashed his board and paper into his bag, his pen gripped tightly in one hand as he shouldered his bag with the other. He wasn’t sure where his pen’s cap had gone and he wasn’t about to let it spill ink all over his bag and work while fleeing from this… nymph or huldra, or whatever. He stood and, eyes firmly on his feet, bowed politely to the fae girl, “Please excuse me.” Without waiting for a response he turned and started walking away, a few yards into the trees he realized he was heading in the wrong direction and began circling back, going around the clearing to avoid the fae girl. Rather than head straight for his home, he chose to head straight for the highway, roads were always safe in folk tails. It wasn’t until he reached the road that he realized he was being followed. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was being followed, were those footsteps in the woods to his left or only the sound of leaves rustling? Either way he dared not look behind him, instead he started walking faster.

It was with some relief he spotted his little cottage through the trees as they thinned out, he could barely make out its shape as afternoon faded towards evening but he had become familiar with the sight and knew he was nearly there. Surely the fae girl would not follow him onto his property, why would she? She probably wasn’t even following him right now! Fakir tried not to think about how the trees still grew rather thickly up to the stone fence marking his property.

Finally he reached the gate leading to his home, as he unlatched it he glanced down the road, no one in sight. With a sigh of relief he carefully closed and latched the gate behind him, open doors of any kind were simply an open invitation to the fair folk. But he was safe, he was on his own property and not in the forest any longer, and perhaps he wouldn’t need to go back to the forest for a few days.

Not wanting to deal with a front door that was sticky at the best of times and jammed completely the rest he walked around to the kitchen’s door on the cottage’s backside. As he rounded the corner he came face to face with a familiar pair of large, blue eyes. Fakir felt his face heat up again, he truly was afraid he’d never stop blushing at this rate, and looked up and away from the fae girl. His eves were looked rather ragged, perhaps he should look into repairing those. “You didn’t answer my question,” She stated petulantly, “What’s ‘naked’ mean? I think it’s very important I know since it apparently involves me. And that was very rude, the way you just walked off like that.”

“I apologize, I did not intend to be rude I simply… realized I have very pressing needs at home.” Fakir tried to inch his way around the irate girl, desperately trying to be polite while also just as desperately trying to get rid of her.

“So what is naked?” She huffed with irritation.

“Er…” Fakir paused in his inching as he floundered, how do you explain something as basic as ‘naked’ to someone who has no idea what it means. He shifted his focus to the lock of hair sticking straight up on her head, the way it bobbed when she talked was very interesting and sure to keep his focus. “These are clothes,” He said, feeling very foolish as he started his explanation and used the hand not clutching his pen to pull on his shirt. “Clothes are used to cover us up, people who aren’t wearing any clothes are naked. Naked means ‘without clothes.’ “ It wasn’t the best explanation, but it would do. He started trying to get around her again.

“I know what clothes are, you aren’t the first human I’ve seen!” She huffed with irritation again, “But I always did wonder why you wear them. Are you born wearing clothes?”

Fakir stopped again, and had to remind himself that this strange, fae girl had probably never talked to a human and she was probably also really powerful and he didn’t need her cursing his garden or tools or something. “No, we’re born naked and screaming. We wear clothes for dec- er… for protection. They keep us warm in winter and protect our skin from the sun in the summer. We also like the way clothes look and we’re so used to wearing them we just keep wearing them even when it’s not cold or sunny.” He really did not want to attempt to explain a complex concept like decency to this fae girl. “Now, if I’ve answered all your questions I really do have things I must do, things I put off earlier today to go into the woods that I must get done before going to bed tonight, like making dinner.” That was a lie, he had three gifted casseroles all ready to be eaten sitting in his pantry. He pushed past the fae girl as he spoke, hoping she would just leave him alone now. Perhaps he should tend to the garden, it had grown so wild fae creatures would probably just consider it part of the forest despite the stone fence.

“Oh, what kinds of things? What are your dinners like? I’ve always wondered what humans do inside their piles of dead trees and stone. How do you light up the inside? The light is always so much warmer than moonlight but not very strong like sunlight is. Oh, and if not wearing clothes makes you naked does that mean animals are naked too?” To Fakir’s surprise the girl was attempting to follow him into the kitchen, crowding behind him as he walked in. Just what he needed, another curious woman who wanted nothing more than to inspect every corner of his home.

“These ‘piles of dead trees and stone’ are called buildings.” Fakir had turned to face the girl, focusing squarely on the yellow flowers nestled in her hair, he wasn’t so naïve to think them clipped there like on the village girls, but it seemed far safer than looking any lower. He also put a hand on her scandalously bare shoulder and attempted to push her from his door step. “This one is my home, and it is considered quite rude to enter someone’s home without his permission.”

She looked quite surprised as he tried to push her out, even putting a hand up to her wide open mouth, “Oh! This is your den? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude! May I please come in?” She smiled as she asked her question, so sure he’d just let her in and look around. Well, hadn’t he done so four times already today?

“No.” He simply shut and latched the kitchen door, then leaned against it to make sure she didn’t try to get in.

“Well, now you’re the one being rude!” He could hear a faint slap of flesh on stone, she must have stomped her foot on the stone acting as his doorstep with that outburst. Then he thought he heard her stomping away, but the sound was very muffled. He ran to peek out of the window, sure enough she was stomping her way off of his property quite angrily. He had to turn away quickly, some how he had forgotten that nude meant he would see her butt quite clearly as she walked away, but he did note that her bright hair was in a long braid that swayed quite wildly with each step and she seemed to have some sort of fluffy, white tail that was sticking up over her butt. Fakir had had enough, no matter if it was early and he had more work to do, he wasn’t even hungry and he was quite exhausted after the day he had had. Instead of preparing a supper, tidying up his home, or even unpacking his bag he dropped the bag on his dinner table, put the pen down next to it, and went straight to his bedroom. He’d deal with whatever happens next in the morning.


	2. Not Just a River in Egypt

The next morning the first thing Fakir did was go inspect his garden. There were more flowers than had been there the night before, certainly he had never seen these yellow flowers currently growing on his lawn. He chose to ignore the fact that they were in nearly uniform swatches that were shaped and spaced suspiciously like small foot prints. He also chose to ignore the fact that he had, in fact, seen those flowers somewhere before.

He went back into his home, firmly shut the kitchen door, and went about having some tea and breakfast. He spent the morning tidying up his home, picking up where he had left off yesterday. Only one woman came to visit during that time, specifically the one who had just missed him the day before. Her ticket of entry was a freshly baked loaf of bread.

“How kind of you, this smells delicious.” Fakir politely didn't scowl at her, this woman really did mean well.

“Oh, never you mind, I was just being neighborly. I have my own chores to do so I’ll let you get back to yours. If you have nowhere else to go you can come have dinner with us this Sunday.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be joining you.” Fakir bowed his head politely, hoping she would leave soon.

“Well, I’ll be off now, you have a nice day.” The woman nodded and smiled and let herself out. Fakir timidly sniffed his newest gift, the bread really did smell delicious and a simple meal with bread was far more appetizing than the complicated casseroles and pies most of the farmers’ wives brought over.

After lunch Fakir found himself wondering what, exactly, to do with the rest of the day. He had actually managed to get everything clean with only the one interruption, he had even found some old curtains one of the women had gifted him, then put them up in the front room. He stood staring at his sparkly clean kitchen for a while, cleaning was as far as he had planned. He looked briefly at the canvas bag, then remembered something. He had received a trunk from home nearly a fortnight ago but had not bothered to go through the contents.

The afternoon was spent emptying the trunk, sorting the contents, and then placing them around his home. His mother had thoughtfully packed some portraits of his family and a few domestic necessities he had not known he’d need when he left home. His father had sent him some clothes and a small toolbox to compliment the one he had brought with him, repairs around the cottage would be much easier with these. In the bottom of the trunk was a letter, he belatedly realized he had not sent word home at all, not even to let them know he had arrived safely and settled in. With a twinge of guilt he took the letter to his desk and sat to read it, soon smiling gently at the words of love his family sent. By then it had grown quite late, so he sat down to a dinner of gifted fish casserole along with some bread and tea, then the evening was spent writing letters to everyone in his family.

The morning after that Fakir decided to do some laundry and air out the clothing and such his parents had sent him. He didn’t have much to clean, but it felt nice to be out in the sunshine as he scrubbed his clothes and hung them out to dry. The wash line full of flapping shirts and sheets somehow gave a homey feeling to his little garden. That afternoon he spent a long time over the table nursing his cup of tea even after he had finished lunch, unsure what to do with his the rest of his afternoon. There were, of course, the repairs he really should attempt to start, but he had no training in carpentry and feared making the problems worse. He could attempt to care for the garden, weed and cut it down so it didn’t look so like a part of the forest, but he was never known for having a green thumb. Finally he just gave in and did what he knew was long coming, he grabbed the canvas bag and moved to his desk. He pulled out the papers and started separating them out, scanning each page briefly. He pulled some more papers from his desk, along with another pen, and started sorting through those too. Soon he was engrossed in reading what he had written, marking the old pages, and rewriting them on fresh sheets of paper.

It was two weeks since his encounter with fae girl before he finally admitted he was going crazy cooped up inside his little cottage. He had cleaned, weeded, hammered, washed, edited, planted, varnished, written, and polished everything he possibly could. The cottage was now very homey and clean, the garden was neat and trim, and his story and poems had been left untouched for over a week. There was nothing else to do, so with the old canvas bag over his shoulder he locked the cottage up tight and began walking down the lane to the highway. It wouldn’t do to go to the same spot he used to haunt, he was sure he had used up all the inspiration to be afforded by a picturesque log with ferns and pond framed in sunlight and shadows. He was unwilling to admit he was afraid if he went back he’d find the fae girl there, waiting for him with her big, blue eyes and incessant questions. So with a small loaf of dry bread and cheese for lunch sitting next to his last pen with a cap and his papers, he set off to explore the other side of the forest.


	3. Winter Cuddle Pile

Ahiru yawned again, causing Fakir to yawn too even though he wasn’t tired. It was only just barely ten past six but the little forest spirit seemed barely able to keep her eyes open. “Why don’t you just go to sleep?”

She looked up at him from where her head was resting on his desk, her eyes only half open. “But I want to stay up with you.”

“All I’m doing is writing, moron,” he replied affectionately, “It’s really quite boring.”

“It’s not boring, and I want to he-” Ahiru’s sentence was interrupted by another yawn. Fakir simply raised an eyebrow at her. She responded by pouting, “I still don’t understand how humans can stay up so late all the time, the sun has been down for a while already.”

“There are lots of animals that stay up at night, like owls. Just go to sleep, you can use the bed and I’ll see you in the morning.” Ahiru finally gave in and wobbled her way out of the room.

Several hours and two pots of tea later, Fakir was ready to admit he was too tired to keep going. He put the papers and his pen away, grabbed his candle, and headed to his bedroom. It wasn’t comfortable, but he could wrap himself up in the spare quilt and curl up next to Ahiru without any issues. It was certainly better than trying to sleep in one of the chairs.

On arriving to his bedroom Fakir was met with an unpleasant surprise. His lone bed was covered in a pile of forest spirits, he recognized most of them as friends of Ahiru whom he had been introduced to earlier. There were even the annoyingly loud blond and brunette she seemed particularly close to on the floor next to the bed, it seems they had run out of room. Ahiru was there on the floor with them, presumably she hadn’t bothered trying to get on the bed.

Fakir dragged his hand through his hair, what could he even possibly do in this situation? Well, first things first, he wasn’t going to sleep in his clothes. He pulled his pajamas out and changed into them. Then he looked around his room again, scratched his head, and decided there was nothing for it. He pulled out the spare pillow, a purchase he had to make last winter out of desperation, then he simply lay down next to Ahiru and her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was suggested by a friend on Tumblr, Sariana, who really liked an illustration I did for an AU of this story.


	4. I'm Not a Weed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you need help with a garden that just can’t seem to thrive who would you go to for help? The nearby farmers? The gardening store in the nearby town? The naked forest spirit who visits fairly regularity?

Fakir was working in his garden, gloves on to protect his hands as he pulled weeds, wearing his most beat up clothes, and a straw hat on to protect him from the late spring sun. The garden was… doing better than when he had moved in a few months ago. It was much neater, certainly, all his flowers, vegetables, and herbs were in neat rows with stones from a nearby stream lined between them. Unfortunately the weeds seemed to be doing better than the things he had actually planted. His beans and lilies were wilted and small while the weeds were sprouting every time he turned his back. With great frustration he pulled another dandelion from his garden and threw it on the weed pile to be burned later.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when he heard a familiar voice ask: “What are you doing?”

“I’m weeding my garden.” Fakir paused, wondering how many of those words would be new to Ahiru, “That means I’m taking care of my plants.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of it, you’re tearing up all your plants.”

“Yes, these are weeds that I don’t want in my garden.”

“What? Why?” Ahiru exclaimed with surprise.

“They choke the useful plants and crowd them out, most people also think they are ugly and generally don’t want them in their gardens.”

“What?!” Fakir wasn’t looking, but he could hear the forest spirit puff up in anger. “These aren’t ugly, who are you to say such mean things about these poor plants? They just want to grow and be loved too!”

“I didn’t say they’re ugly, I just said most people think they’re ugly. I’m pulling them up because they’re killing the things I did plant!”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t plant things where they didn’t belong they wouldn’t be so weak and miserable!”

“These things are right where they belong, in my garden! Not these useless weeds!” At some point after the yelling had started Fakir had stood up and turned to face Ahiru, completely forgetting her nakedness for the moment, and began pointing wildly at the pile of weeds he still planned to burn.

“You… you’re just awful! No wonder all the plants in your garden are so sad and miserable when you treat them like this!” The two of them glared at each other before Ahiru turned and stomped off Fakir’s property and back into the forest. Fakir sat down and began angrily pulling weeds again.

It wasn’t until two days later that Fakir saw Ahiru again, he had gone out into the forest for some fresh air and writing inspiration when she found him. She seemed very shy and nervous when Fakir finally noticed her, the forest spirit was surprisingly quiet despite how clumsy he knew she could be. Fakir suddenly felt nervous too, the blush on his face wasn’t just from the fact that she still wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“Um… Fakir? I’m sorry I yelled at you the other day.”

“I’m sorry too, the situation got out of hand and I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Ahiru’s face split into a wide grin at Fakir’s words, he couldn’t help smiling in response. It was cliché and overdone, but her smile really did remind him of the sun bursting forth on a cloudy day. “Can you show me how to properly care for the plants in my garden?”

Ahiru’s eyes widened at Fakir’s request, it seems she wasn’t expecting him to ask her for help. “Oh uh… sure! That would be wonderful!” She ran up and began tugging on Fakir’s hands.

“W-w-what are you doing?” Fakir had to look off into the distance, Ahiru’s naked body was far too close for comfort.

“Trying to get you up, of course! C’mon, let’s go to your garden right now and we can help the plants grow big and strong and happy!” The writer hastily grabbed his things with his free hand and stuffed them into his bag before letting the excited little forest spirit drag him back to his home. He couldn’t help smiling along the way, she was already babbling on about the plants and he didn’t understand half of it, but somehow her excitement was contagious and he was starting to learn not to resist it.


	5. The Unexpected Visitor

No one in Kinkan Town used their front doors. Well, that wasn’t entirely true: none of the farmers or cottagers sprinkled along the outskirts of Kinkan Town used their front doors for anything but the most official and formal occasions. For the most part friendly visits and quick errands were done through the kitchen door on either the side or the back of the house, folks felt it was far friendlier and more neighborly that way and using for front door for anything less than the minister or an out of town visitor was met with knowing smiles and amused glances. Thus Fakir was completely surprised when he heard a knocking on his front door.

It was a struggle to open the door, owing to how frequently the poor door was used, and squeaked terribly once it he had wrestled it open. Fakir was about to add door maintenance to his mental to do list when the surprise of just who his visitor was blew the thoughts right out of his mind.

“Autor! What are you doing here?”

“Well, what a warm greeting for you dear cousin.”

“Pardon me, I meant… I wasn’t expecting… you didn’t even write… just come inside.” Fakir stepped aside to let his cousin in, wincing as the door gave another ear wrenching squeal when he closed it.

“What a charming domicile,” Autor remarked once he was inside, staring about him in a manner very similar to the farmer’s wives who used to visit on a nearly daily basis. “Is this the sitting room?”

“Yes, over there is my office,” Fakir pointed to his desk, neatly cleared off at the moment. “Forgive me for not preparing better for your visit, I was not expecting you. At all. Was your letter, perhaps, lost?”

“Do forgive me, I did not send any letter.” Autor gingerly sat in the old, overstuffed chair that came with the cottage, “Since we are so close, practically like brothers, I did not think it was necessary.”

“Yes, like brothers, how are Lohen and Siegfried doing? I have not seen them or mother and father in ages.” Fakir turned his desk chair around and sat facing Autor. “To be honest, I was expecting them to visit before you.”

“Your family are all doing fine, Lohen is almost ready to graduate and Siegfried has excelled as your father’s aid. But really, Fakir, I am almost offended. Here I am on a friendly visit and you jump right into things without even offering me a drink.”

Fakir stood and started for the kitchen, “I have tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely,” Autor called to Fakir’s retreating back. After several minutes puttering around in his kitchen, Fakir returned to the front room with two cups of steaming tea. He was not at all surprised to find Autor standing next to his desk with several pieces of paper in hand. “I see you found my works.”

Autor shifted the papers to one hand as he took the cup Fakir offered him. “Forgive me again, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer. I worry for you, cousin, you haven’t published a single thing since moving to this… provincial town. And here I thought the whole point of the move was to improve your writing.”

“My writing has improved, I’ve written quite a lot after I had settled in. Not to mention I’m far happier with everything I’ve written since the move than with anything I wrote before.”

“Happier? With this… this ridiculous nonsense?” Autor shook the papers angrily. “You could be the next Shakespeare or Drosselmeier, but instead you’re writing fairy tales for children.”

Fakir gently took his papers from Autor and placed them on his desk before responding, “Aside from my own personal feelings about both those authors, Shakespeare wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Drosselmeier wrote The Prince and the Raven.”

“They are still two great men known for their magnificent tragedies.”

“Autor,” Here Fakir sighed as if tired of old words repeated many times, “You know I don’t enjoy writing tragedies. A sad ending does not make a work any more valid or meaningful than one with a happy ending.”

“My stars, is that a deer?” Autor’s eyes widened as he focused on the kitchen area behind Fakir.

Fakir half turned and glanced behind him, Ahiru was just in sight leaning through his kitchen door, her hair swaying next to the door frame. “Oh yes, that’s just Ahi-” he had started to turn back to Autor when he froze mid-sentence, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Slowly he turned back, now instead of Ahiru he saw a deer with shockingly bright fur, golden flowers on her head, and incredibly blue eyes.

“Ahi? Is this deer a frequent visitor? It certainly seems brave to come into your kitchen. Is it friendly?” Autor walked past Fakir and into the kitchen, but Ahiru had already backed out and was fidgeting nervously in the garden.

“Her name’s Ahiru, and she does visit pretty often.”

“How can you tell it’s a girl?”

“No antlers,” Fakir answered in a deadpan, wondering if Autor was going to notice just how unusual Ahiru looked.

“Ah, of course, how silly of me not to notice. Hello girl, nice to meet you.” Autor was now in the garden approaching Ahiru with his hand out while Fakir leaned against his door frame and tried not to seem nervous. Ahiru seemed to decide she didn’t want anything to do with Autor and turned away, bounding over Fakir’s tiny fence with her tail up in alarm. “I’ve never been so close to one before, are there others?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen any others.”

“How can you be sure it’s always the same deer?”

Fakir quirked his eyebrow, “Well, she’s never had antlers and is always the same size so I guess I just assumed it was the same deer.” After a short pause he added, “She didn’t seem at all… odd to you?”

“Odd? How so?” Autor asked as he headed back in.

“Well… the flowers?” Fakir motioned to his head, but Autor didn’t seem to notice as he looked around the kitchen.

“Poor Fakir, is she eating your garden? I hear deer can be quite the pest for gardeners.”

“Never mind, let’s finish our tea and you can tell me how the family’s doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's spelt Drosselmeyer usually, but in the series when Fakir is in front of his ancestor's grave it's spelt Drosselmeier so for this story I chose to use the spelling on the grave.


	6. Banquet of Darkness

It wasn’t until the light suddenly fell into murky shadows that Fakir realized how late it had grown. The sun had dipped behind the mountains not far to the west, casting the forest into twilight although the sky was still lit up with the sunset’s warm hues. “Oh wow, the sun is setting already? I should get home.” Fakir began gathering up his discarded writing materials as Ahiru looked around her.

“Yeah, the forest is getting ready to sleep, I should too,” the forest spirit replied as Fakir made some final adjustments to his canvas bag. She watched expectantly as Fakir looked around in confusion.

“Let’s see, I think I came from that way…” Fakir turned about a little indecisively.

“Your home is that way.” Ahiru pointed in a different direction into the forest, Fakir turned and squinted.

“Are you sure? I’m fairly certain I came here from a different direction.”

“Your home is that was as the crow flies,” Ahiru insisted, pouting a bit at his doubt. “Here, I’ll show you!” She hopped up and began walking in the direction she had indicated. Fakir hurried to keep up, once he had given into having a curious forest spirit hang around him he had realized the best way to be in her company but not look directly at her was to walk side by side. He already knew far more about her freckles than he was comfortable with. “At night sometimes I come to the edge of the forest and look at the human de- I mean… homes. What do people do in their homes? How do they light them up?”

“You can come into my home and I’ll show you, if you like.” Fakir offered absently as he ducked a low branch, the path Ahiru was taking didn’t even count as a rabbit trail and he was having a hard time finding his footing in the quickly fading light.

“What? Really?” She exclaimed excitedly, dashing in front of Fakir to grasp his hands happily, Fakir quickly turned away as he felt his face heat up… again.

“Of course, why not?”

“That’s so amazing!” Ahiru wheeled around and skipped ahead, laughing happily until she ran face first into a tree branch. Fakir winced, that looked like it stung.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh I’m fine, that happens sometimes. I’m just so happy, I get to see your home!” Ahiru skipped ahead again, doubling back because Fakir couldn’t keep up with her pace, before dancing ahead again in her excitement. As this continued she bumped right into a tree trunk, tripped over a bush, and smacked her head on another low branch. Each time Fakir flinched while Ahiru laughed it off and asked another question about human homes.

Shortly they came to a steep hill leading down to a stream’s bank. Because of how steep the hill was there was a break in the trees, affording a nice view of the nearby mountains against the pink and gold sky. “Isn’t the view breathtaking,” Ahiru asked as she slowed to walk next to Fakir and admire the view.

“It is quite beautiful,” Fakir agreed, glad the forest spirit antics were done for the moment. He kept walking, hoping to be home before the last of the light faded, the eastern sky was already dark and a few stars were visible. Ahiru kept walking next to him as she gazed at the silhouette of the mountains with the last rays of the sun shining behind them. Then Ahiru’s foot slipped on a loose bit of ground and tumbled down the steep hill, landing with a weak splash at the water line.

“Ahiru!” Fakir watched in horror as she tumbled, then carefully slid down the loose dirt and rocks of the hillside. By the time he had gotten to the bottom Ahiru had pulled herself into a sitting position, still half in the water, as she inspected herself.

“Ouch ouch ouch, that really hurt!”

“Are you okay?” Fakir took the elbow she had been inspecting in hand, looking for any signs of damage.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve survived worse.” Fakir let her elbow go once he realized she had only suffered a few scrapes on the way down. He looked at this dirty, naked, scratched up little waif who couldn’t even show him the way home without hurting herself.

“Are you really a forest spirit,” he asked as he helped her up.

“ ‘Course I am, what else would I be?” Ahiru looked up at him in confusion once she was standing again.

“I don’t know, I just… which way was my home again?”

Ahiru looked around for a moment, then pointed along the base of the hill they had just fallen down, the loose dirt and rocks would make it impossible to climb back up. “It’s this way, we haven’t far to go to get to the wide stone path.” Fakir nodded, she meant the cobblestone highway that cut through the forest. He definitely had some notes to take once he got home, but that would have to wait until after he showed his curious little muse around his home.


	7. Spring is in the Air

It was one of those rare, delightful spring days that are just a little too warm in the sun but end up the perfect temperature in the shade, with a steady breeze that’s not blowing too hard and a sparse flock of clouds skidding along overhead. Sitting within a clearing in the forest behind his home, the writer was fully engrossed in his work while the forest spirit happily cavorted nearby, completely forgotten as words flew across the paper. That is, until Fakir felt a tugging at his hair. It was a slow realization, by the time he noticed something was tugging at his hair he realized something had been tugging for quite a while. He turned to find Ahiru behind him, several of her yellow flowers in one hand, her other hand was attempting to hide her giggles.

“What are you doing?” He asked suspiciously.

“I thought they’d look good on you,” Ahiru replied coyly. Fakir frowned, Ahiru wasn’t normally coy. He felt the back of his head.

“You braided my hair?” Ahiru nodded happily in answer to his question. She hadn’t just braided his hair, Fakir realized, she had undone his loose ponytail so she could start the braid tight to the back of his head and had added flowers to it. Fakir paused to consider this, Ahiru seemed very pleased with herself and she hadn’t done any harm. He shrugged, “Next time you should ask before messing with someone’s hair.”

“Ah, of course!” Ahiru agreed happily before going back to sticking more flowers in his hair. Fakir chose to go back to writing, actually this would make an interesting detail for another part of the story… he flipped to the last page and jotted some quick notes down, then flipped back to the page he had been working on and went back to writing.

That night, as he was getting ready for bed, Fakir took the braid out of his hair and pulled out all of the flowers. He gathered up the blossoms once he was sure he had untangled them all, unsure what to do with them now. He had three small vases full of identical flowers sitting in various spots about his sitting room, Ahiru had been gifting him flowers as boutonnieres and the like all spring. Fakir decided it was time to find a new container, a quick hunt through his pantry revealed a rather ornate vase, a house warming gift from an aunt he believed, that really didn’t have room for the armload of flowers he was carrying but he managed to get them all and some water into it anyway. He left the vase at his kitchen table and went to bed.

Ahiru grinned when she saw the vase the next day, “You saved them, I thought you would just throw them away like weeds.”

“I would never,” Fakir replied. “Besides, your flowers are not weeds,” he added as he finished his breakfast.

“Are you coming out to the forest again today?”

“I’m afraid I have some chores to do today, but if I get them all done I’ll be free again tomorrow.”

“Oh, can I help?” Fakir smiled at Ahiru’s eagerness, not many people would get this excited over chores.

“Well, if you tend to the garden while I run into town for some errands we’ll have half the list done by lunch.”

“Okay!” Ahiru was always happy to help Fakir tend to his garden, and Fakir was happy with how well the garden was growing under her tender care. Fakir grabbed one of Ahiru’s flowers from the vase and made a boutonniere of it before heading into Kinkan, the dazzling smile Ahiru gave him when she noticed the little decoration had absolutely nothing to do with why he did such a thing.

Fakir’s trip into town was uneventful, he bought some groceries, ordered some gardening supplies, and the book he had previously ordered had come in. He arrived home, arms full of paper packages, to a flower garland being thrown over his head, then Ahiru grabbing the top package and running inside with it. The garland was quite long, draping over his burdens as well as falling down his head and settling around his neck, more of Ahiru’s yellow flowers. Fakir smiled as he followed the energetic forest spirit into his home. Ahiru’s tail was waggling happily as he came in, he averted his eyes and for the millionth time wished she would at least wear a diaphanous drapery like all the paintings of nymphs he’d ever seen did. Instead he looked at the groceries Ahiru had pulled out of the package and laid neatly on the table. “These all go in the pantry.”

“Right-o,” Ahiru replied as she happily scooped the items up and headed for the pantry. Fakir laid down a few packages, then followed her into the pantry with the rest to make sure everything went to the right place. The rest of the day Ahiru followed Fakir around his home and helped him with his chores, or tried to anyway. Even if she was a hindrance some times Fakir never seemed to mind. He completely forgot about the flower necklace until after Ahiru’s two annoying friends had come to drag her back into the forest, giggling the entire time they were there, and he was getting ready for bed himself. Fakir placed the garland gently on his dresser before bed.

The next day he had put the garland back around his neck, the same flower for a boutonniere as yesterday sitting snugly in his shirt pocket. He had finished his breakfast, packed a lunch, organized his writing supplies, and was ready to be on his way before Ahiru showed up.

“I thought you were up with the sun, why so late this morning?”

Ahiru looked down in embarrassment, “I was taking care of the forest, you’re not the only one with chores you know.”

“I’m sure the forest needs you more than I do, is there any way I can help?” Ahiru looked up and grinned at his response.

“No, it’s People stuff, thank you for offering though.” Fakir nodded, there wasn’t much a human could do when it came to fae matters. Ahiru happily grabbed Fakir and started dragging him into the forest. “C'mon, half the day’s gone already and we’re still just standing around inside.”

“Where are we going today,” Fakir asked as he let himself be dragged.

Ahiru paused, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead… same place as last time?” She leaned her head to the side as she asked, an ear twitching as it touched her shoulder.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Fakir agreed, walking side by side with her as they headed through his garden and out into the forest. The day was spent much like his previous afternoon in the forest, with the exception that instead of braiding flowers into his hair Ahiru had decided to make a flower crown for him. Fakir obligingly admired the crown he couldn’t see, because it was on his head, then continued writing. It wasn’t until the pair was heading back to his home that Fakir even considered something might be going on.

“Oh, here you are! We’ve been wondering where you wander off to every day, we should have known you were visiting your human.” Fakir politely looked up, Ahiru’s forest spirit friend Rue had crossed their path and he was trying very hard not to look at her. He was sure he’d never get used to their habit of not wearing clothes. Rue giggled as she looked Fakir over, even going so far as to lift up his garland and inspect it. “I see Ahiru made you a gift.”

“Yes, it’s very lovely,” Fakir agreed. Ahiru was beaming happily from the arm she was clinging to, but something about the way Rue looked at him with lifted brow made Fakir wonder if the flowers meant something more.

“Well, it’s gotten quite late Ahiru, I was hoping I would find you before it got dark to make sure you got back on time for a change.”

“Ah, right. I should go with Rue, g'night Fakir.” Ahiru let go of Fakir’s arm and happily took Rue’s hand.

“Good night, ladies, rest well.” Fakir bid with a wave, Rue looked back and gave him the same odd, raised eyebrow look as she had earlier before turning forward again and vanishing into the woods. Fakir picked up the garland in one hand and pondered it the whole way home.

It was obvious the flowers meant something to these fae folk, but Fakir wasn’t sure what. He was careful to gently place the crown and garland on his dresser every night and put them on again when he knew he’d see Ahiru, though she often gave him more anyway, over the next few weeks. Fakir suspected it had something to do with how clingy Ahiru had become, she didn’t usually spend every waking moment with the writer, sometimes disappearing for days at a time to take care of the forest, but Fakir couldn’t remember a day recently that she hadn’t shown up at some point in the morning and hung around until she tiredly zigzagged her way back into the forest. He offered to let her spend the night but she insisted she had to go back to the forest because of the season. Not to mention any time they crossed paths with any of the other forest spirits they all gave Fakir odd, knowing looks or broke down into giggle fits.

Then, on a walk to one of the farther points in the forest, Ahiru and Fakir crossed paths with another friend of Ahiru’s. “Well hello there, I didn’t expect to see either of you out here!”

“Hi Mytho!” Ahiru replied happily, “Fakir and I are taking a ‘stroll’ through the woods, isn’t that neat?” Fakir nodded his greetings to the pale forest spirit, completely entranced by his antlers.

Mytho smiled widely as he looked Fakir up and down, “I see Rue wasn’t exaggerating when she said you were wearing Ahiru’s flowers.” Fakir nodded, then flushed. It had hit him, Mytho’s antlers were positively covered in wreaths of red wild roses, the same flowers that grew from Rue’s brow. He also remembered when Ahiru had introduced him to her friends that Ahiru told him Mytho and Rue were a couple “and so perfect together.”

“Do…” Fakir licked his lips as he felt his face heat up even more, “Do the flowers mean anything?”

Mytho snickered, and out of the corner of his eye Fakir saw Ahiru begin to fidget. “I’ll let her tell you that, I have People matters to attend to. See you later!” Mytho shifted into a pale deer, antlers still covered in red roses, and bounded away into the woods.

Fakir turned expectantly to Ahiru and waited for her to explain. “Well,” she started reluctantly, “ah… it’s spring so the forest needs a lot of attention so we’re really busy with a lot of People stuff right now. You know, making everything sprout and grow and bloom…” Fakir crossed his arms and frowned at Ahiru, she was avoiding the issue and they both knew it. “And oh my look how late it’s gotten I better get going myself see you tomorrow!” Ahiru spat out in one rushed breathe before giving Fakir a quick kiss on the cheek and disappearing into the woods. The writer wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring off into the trees and sure his face was redder than Rue’s roses, but it was dark before he turned and tried to find his way home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually one of the first scenes to pop into my head when I first started writing this, and was one of the first illustrations for the AU to this (where Fakir is also a forest spirit).


	8. Red Checkered Blanket

Fakir wiped some sweat off his brow, careful not to disturb the dainty yellow flower tucked over one ear. The wicker basket he was carrying was quite heavy, and even under the thick canopy of the forest the air was warm. The blanket he carrying over his shoulder wasn’t helping matters either, but he kept walking on. Shortly he arrived at his destination: a clearing small enough to still be dappled in sunlight at its brightest and completely shrouded in shadows otherwise, with a deep pool of clear water, several stones, and a long fallen tree overrun with moss and ferns. He scanned the area, quickly spotting a splash of bright color amongst the early summer wild flowers growing in a sun dappled corner. “Ahiru!” He smiled as he waved, the Forest Folk turning to him with an answering smile and wave.

Ahiru hopped up and bounced over to meet him as Fakir ambled towards the patch of wild flowers, “Hi Fakir! Whatcha got there? Does it have to do with why ya wanted to meet out here?”

Fakir nodded and held up the basket, “I thought today would be a good day for a picnic.” Ahiru just tilted her head in confusion, Fakir was always saying weird words she didn’t understand. “First things first, I need to spread this blanket out. I don’t want to crush the flowers, so where should we lay it out?”

Ahiru took a moment to eye the blanket, then look around the clearing, when she seemed to have made a decision she grabbed the blanket and ran into a dark corner near the ferns. The forest spirit struggled with the blanket a moment as she tried to unfold it, Fakir set down the basket and helped her. Soon they both had a corner in each hand and were gently laying the blanket over the moss and bare earth. Once the blanket was down Fakir selected a few nearby rocks to place over the corners before he settled onto the blanket with the basket next to him. “Come join me, I’ll show you what’s in the basket.”

Ahiru sat down as Fakir pulled out a thermos, lots of sandwiches wrapped in paper, cold chicken, several turnovers, a covered bowl of various berries, and a container of fresh cream. Fakir added to his little feast a pair of thin wooden plates, a pair of cups, and some cutlery, though he had a feeling Ahiru wouldn’t use the last item. Fakir carefully unwrapped the sandwiches and various containers of foods and laid them out, then handed a plate to Ahiru. “I wasn’t sure what Forest Folk eat, so I brought a little of everything.” He pointed to different foods as he spoke, telling her what they were and what they were made of, finishing off with the groups of sandwiches: “These are ham cold cuts with cheese, these are lettuce and tomato, these are various jams, these are peanut butter, and these are roast beef. Now, you pick what you want to try and put it on the plate, then you eat it off the plate. Mostly, the plate is so you have someplace to put things down while you’re not eating it.” Fakir handed over a plate to Ahiru, who was looking at everything with wide, wondering eyes. Fakir picked up the thermos, “I need to add water to this before we can drink it, so I’ll be right back, okay?” Ahiru nodded as she held the plate and continued to stare at the spread before her.

Since the spring was so close by, it only took Fakir a few moments to fill the thermos with water and mix it with the rich liquid he had stored in it that morning. By the time he had returned Ahiru had loaded her plate up with one of everything and she was industriously chewing away at a sandwich. “How is it,” Fakir asked conversationally as he poured a cup of cold tea for Ahiru and handed it over.

“It’s… not like anything I’ve ever had before.” Ahiru mumbled out with her mouth full, still chewing away. “I think I like it.”

“So which sandwich is that?” Fakir began loading up his own plate after pouring himself a cup of tea.

“The lettuce and tomato,” Ahiru said slowly, making sure she was pronouncing the words correctly.

“Try one of the other ones.”

“Okay!” Ahiru dropped the sandwich back on the plate and picked up another one, making a face the moment she bit into it. “Yuck, I don’t like that one.”

“Here, I’ll take it,” Fakir held his hand out for the sandwich, Ahiru quickly handed it over. Fakir began eating it himself, roast beef. Perhaps Forest Folk were vegetarian? “Try some of the tea, it’ll help wash away the taste.”

Ahiru grabbed her cup and gulped the tea, Fakir had learned long ago she had a weakness for his tea that he didn’t quite understand. He quickly refilled her cup and encouraged her to try something else. Ahiru picked a different sandwich and took a bite, her face immediately lighting up. Fakir smiled, “You like that one?”

Ahiru nodded enthusiastically, “It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” She quickly jammed the rest of the sandwich in her mouth, which made chewing incredibly difficult. Ahiru didn’t mind, she just moved to chewing with her mouth open before trying to swallow the whole thing. That’s when it started, it seemed she had gotten some of the sandwich filling on the roof of her mouth because she began licking it while making a constant “Mleh” sound. Fakir couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter as he realized which sandwich had enthralled her.

Ahiru frowned as she continued licking away at the roof of her mouth, Fakir tried to contain his mirth and eventually was able to ask: “So how’s the peanut butter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story inspired by Trixystix on Tumblr, who had a dream about forest spirit Ahiru eating peanut butter for the first time.


	9. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are actually two unconnected scenes that were individually too short to post but I couldn't add more to without it being useless filler. The first one is very early in the story and the second one is, hopefully, obviously much later.

“So what are you doing, anyway?” Fakir looked up from his writing, then quickly back down. He still wasn’t used to this fae creature showing up randomly and startling him with her sudden questions.

“I’m writing,” he answered simply, putting pen back to paper as he attempted to finish the thought he was in the middle of before his new… acquaintance? Friend? Companion? Whatever their budding relationship was, Fakir knew Ahiru would start peppering him with questions and he wanted to get the rest of this thought down first.

Ahiru responded to his curt answer with a huff and a roll of her eyes, “So you said last time I asked, but that doesn’t explain anything.”

“Just… a… mo… ment…” Fakir scribbled out the last of the thought as quickly as possible, hoping it would be legible later. When he finished he looked up and locked eyes with Ahiru, making sure to keep his line of sight well above her neck. “Writing is… uh…” Fakir stuttered as his mind struggled for an appropriate explanation. He wasn’t sure telling her about the importance of recording your culture and ideas was the best way to go here. Ahiru patiently cocked her head as she waited for Fakir to sort his thoughts, the nervous hand running through his bangs was a sure sign he was thinking things through.

Finally, Fakir seemed to come to a decision. He held up the paper he had been writing on, “Each of these marks is a symbol that represents a sound. We memorize which symbols represent which sounds, then we can read them later and string the sounds together into words. It’s a way to share information without having to speak face to face.”

Ahiru nodded along as he spoke, accepting his overly simple explanation. “It seems very complicated for something that doesn’t seem all that necessary, there are so many of you jammed in together in your cities.”

“It might seem that way, but it’s the best way to make sure information doesn’t get twisted or lost. We have information written hundreds of years ago, written by people who’ve long since died and turned to dust. Holding onto old writings, it helps us remember where we come from and how much our culture has grown and changed over the years.”

Ahiru turned her head slightly as she considered his words, however silly or nonsensical writing may seem to her she knew that writing was very important to Fakir and that was all that really mattered. “So what are you writing?”

Fakir felt his face heat up, he should have realized the question was coming. “I’m… writing a story.”

“Oh, like a story about how your day was?” Fakir sighed, how do you explain fiction and fairy tales to a faerie creature? What stories do fae tell each other over their hearth fires, when they even have such a thing? Do forest spirits even have imaginations? They certainly had curiosity and that seemed like the start of imagination.

Fakir shook his head, his thoughts were getting too deep for the situation at hand. “How about I read you what I’ve written so far? That might explain things better.”

Ahiru settled in comfortably next to him, placing her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. “Okay, go ahead.”

~~line break~~

It was the overwhelming warmth that woke Fakir up, which was odd considering the previous day the only thing that prevented him from going into town to purchase more blankets and winter wear was the abundance of snow on the ground and his lack of winter wear. Fakir didn’t mind being warm though, so he attempted to roll over and go back to sleep; but whatever was keeping him so warm seemed to also be weighing him down, the writer couldn’t move. That’s what finally woke him fully: not being able to move. He opened his eyes and half sat up, resting on his elbows as he looked around his bedroom.

His bed was completely covered in Forest Folk. There were naked deer people curled up into balls around him and strangely colored deer laying in between those, what was weighing Fakir down specifically was a mauve colored doe with dandelions on her head he recognized as one of Ahiru’s close friends. A glance to the left showed him more Forest Folk curled up on his floor in a tight circle just about the right size for the rug he was sure was under them.

The writer pinched the bridge of his nose, it was far too early in the morning for him to deal with this. He struggled to get out from under the pile of fae on his bed, then began shaking the bed as a whole. “What have I told you lot about coming inside without asking? You have to ask every time unless told otherwise! What is with you guys and not asking before doing or taking things?” Between shaking the bed and his rant, the Forest Folk woke up and groggily started exiting the room, waking up the pile on the floor as they went. “And no hooves indoors!” Fakir called after them, “The floor is not meant for that! How did you even get those antlers through the door anyway?” He heard giggles as his room emptied, most of the deer changed into naked deer people as they went. Fakir followed behind to herd them out of his home entirely, continuing to scold them the entire way. Once his home was emptied he returned to his room, hands on hips as he surveyed the mess. Flower petals, twigs, leaves, and fur everywhere… not to mention the scratches all over his wood floor. Fakir sighed, it was going to be a long day cleaning up.


	10. Faux Pas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A direct sequel to Chapter Six: Banquet of Darkness. It gets a bit ansgtier than the rest of the story, but I did manage to find the proper fluff ending it needed.

By the time the pair had reached his little country cottage, the sun had long since set and the night sky filled with twinkling stars. A gibbous moon hung hesitantly over the eastern horizon, giving enough light for Fakir to easily hop his short, stone fence and stride confidently to his door. He had left it unlocked when he left that afternoon, something he was grateful for in the moonlight. Ahiru danced merrily near him, too excited about finally getting to see Fakir’s “den” to keep still.

Once inside he quickly dropped his bag on the table and hunted for a tin of matches and the nearest lamp. “It’s so dark,” Ahiru commented, carefully looking around herself in the dim kitchen.

“That’s because I haven’t lit the lamp yet,” Fakir responded.

“What’s a lamp?” Ahiru came close to him, wondering what he was fiddling with in the corner.

Rather than respond, Fakir simply struck a match and held it to the lamp’s wick. He heard a terrified shriek near his elbow, followed immediately by the clatter of fallen furniture and the sharp moan of his dining table being shoved about. The writer made sure to put out the match and replace the lamp’s glass chimney before turning to see what had happened.

Ahiru was pressed against the far wall, inching slowly further away from him. Her eyes were wide, every freckle stood out in stark contrast against her pale face, her ears laid back, and her entire form shaking in abject terror.

“Ahiru? What’s wrong?”

Her mouth flapped uselessly for a few tries before she finally managed to barely whisper her answer, “Fire.”

“Oh.” Fakir wasn’t sure what else to say, it made sense after all. What creature of forest and wood wouldn’t be terrified of even such a small flame? Campfires were said to keep wild beasts at bay as well. The writer turned the wick down until the flame was snuffed, when he turned back Ahiru had relaxed though she still seemed wary. “I apologize, I should have warned you what I was about to do.” Ahiru didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, simply stood against the wall and stared at Fakir. Or he assumed so, the moonlight was not enough to see by in his kitchen. “Let’s head back outside, alright?” He thought he saw the forest spirit nod before she left through the still open kitchen door. The writer quickly followed her out into his garden.

It took Fakir’s eyes a moment to adjust, when they did he spotted her next to his one fruit tree. He walked up to her, afraid of spooking his still new friend. “Are you… will you be okay?”

“You started a fire! In your own den! I don’t… it’s so… why would you do that?!”

“Humans use contained fires to light up our homes, we have for years upon years. Since long before I was born.” Fakir wasn’t sure how to explain how long people had used fires, did forest spirits understand millennia? “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to warn you. Perhaps you’d rather see my home during the day?” Ahiru thought the offer over, or attempted to. Her thoughts were interrupted by a deep yawn. “I promise not to light any fires while you are in my home.”

Ahiru nodded, “Alright, tomorrow then. It’s so late, I’m going to go back to the forest. Good night.” Fakir bid Ahiru a goodnight as well, watching as she tiredly walked back into the forest.

The writer returned to his home, shutting the kitchen door sullenly behind him. He was feeling quite depressed, anxious that he may have lost a friend. He wasn’t sure why he was so anxious, he had lost new friends before, he had seen many a promising friendship wither and die while still a mere bud. So why was the thought that he may have just frightened off an annoying fae creature he had wanted nothing to do with when he first met her so awful? Fakir forgot about the notes he wanted to make earlier that evening and stumbled his way blindly to his room, loathe to light the lamp this night, to spend the rest of the night tossing and turning as he struggled with himself.

The first thing he did when the sun’s rays peaked through his bedroom window was to go down stairs and make sure both the matches and the lamp were safely stowed away out of sight and where he could easily find them later. He did a walk through of the rest of his home, there was at least one other lamp hanging about and he wanted to make sure he didn’t frighten Ahiru if- no, when she arrived later that day. He wasn’t sure when she’d show up, since she got sleepy so quickly at sunset he guessed she would rise with the sun too, but that wasn’t a guarantee she’d come straight over.

Fakir had time to do some cursory cleaning, open all his blinds, and eat a quick breakfast before Ahiru did show up, she stood out in his garden and called to him, “Fakiiiiiiiiir!”

The writer poked his head out his kitchen door and smiled at the diminutive forest spirit, “Ahiru! I was a bit worried you might not show after the fright I gave you last night. Do you still want to come in?” Ahiru nodded eagerly, ears perked up as she tried to peer past him. He stepped back and opened the door wider, motioning inward with his free hand. “Welcome to my home, feel free to look around and ask me about anything.”

“Thank you, I will!” Ahiru happily bounced over the threshold and into the kitchen, looking around with wide eyes. Fakir smiled to himself again as he shut the door behind her. He really was glad she had come back after her fright, and he certainly wanted to make sure she would always feel welcome in his home.


	11. Precious Package

Fakir stood just outside the tiny post office, idly looking through what had arrived today. It was a rather meager pile despite how long it had been since he last collected his mail. A few letters and two fat packets. He sighed when he read the name of the sender on the first packet, but the second one brought a shining smile to his face. If he had paid attention to the people around him he might have noticed how surprised the villagers around him were to see a smile grace his face. But he wasn’t paying attention, too enraptured with his packet. He ripped it open right there in the street and pulled out a slim magazine, eagerly flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He briefly skimmed over the words on the page, even gently touching one page as if afraid touching it would break some wonderful spell. Then he tucked the whole bundle, magazine and all, under his arm and took off for his home at a quick rate, smile still radiantly lighting up his face.

Once home he dropped his pile of mail on the kitchen table, not paying attention as a letter or two slipped softly to the floor. Magazine still in hand, he bolted back out the door and hopped his low stone fence, sprinting between the trees. “Ahiru! Ahiru!” He called for his friend a few times as he darted under the trees.

“Fakir!” The forest spirit called back as she seemed to appear out of nowhere next to him.

Fakir was too happy to see her to be startled. “Look, look! It arrived!” The writer held up the magazine for Ahiru to see. “It’s the magazine that decided to publish my story! My first published piece since moving here.” Fakir flipped quickly through the pages as Ahiru leaned curiously over his arm. “Here it is, my story in print.”

“Wow!” Ahiru marveled over the page just as if she could actually read it. Fakir smiled, it was so sweet of his friend to be so excited for him over something she didn’t really understand.

“And look here,” Fakir turned the page and angled it so Ahiru could fully see it. “They even hired an artist to illustrate it!” There was a full page ink drawing of a young boy with his arm companionably slung over the neck of a fawn with hints of a lush forest around them.

Ahiru leaned in close to the paper and marveled over the drawing. “I had no idea humans could do things like this!”

“Well, I have no talent for drawing, but I think the artist did some fine work. Here’s little Jack just meeting his Forest friend.”

“Read it to me!” Ahiru grabbed Fakir’s shirt and tugged eagerly on it.

Fakir chuckled at her request, “I already read the story to you when I first finished it.”

“Read it again anyway, please!”

“Alright.” The pair settled comfortably on a thick mat of moss and fallen leaves, leaning against the trunk of an ancient tree. Ahiru leaned her head against Fakir’s shoulder and looked at the words on the page as his soft, smooth voice rolled over her.


	12. Double Trouble

Fakir sat on the low stone dyke that separated his garden from the forest. He was leaning against a wild apple tree that grew right next to the fence with a book in his hand. All in all, it was a relaxing way to spend the afternoon after a hard day’s work cleaning, gardening, and doing just general chores. Of course that wasn’t to last.

“Fakir, quick!” With loud, gasping breaths, Ahiru was already latched onto the writer’s arm and pulling on him before he had even fully realized she was there. “You have to come with me!”

“What’s the emergency?” Asked Fakir confusedly as he tried to mark his spot in the book and lay it aside while Ahiru kept tugging.

“Piqué and Lillié are trapped and need help out! C'mon!”

“Who?” asked the confused Fakir as he let Ahiru drag him away.

“They’re friends of mine, I wanted you guys to meet a while ago but they’re shy ‘cause you’re human.”

“That’s understandable,” huffed Fakir as he jogged along after Ahiru. After going half way around the town Fakir had technically moved into they came upon some rather long and tall walls bordering the forest. 'Must be the backside of the mansions belonging the row of millionaires with summer homes here,’ thought Fakir to himself. They came to one that was not just tall concrete that had been put up several years ago judging from the many vines trailing up it and even a few languidly flopped over the top, but had a wrought iron fence on top of the concrete. The iron fence appeared to be new, still dark and completely lacking in any kind of wear or corrosion. As he looked further along the fence Fakir noticed something strange: a pair of animal hinds poking through the spokes of the iron fence with hoofed legs scraping uselessly against the concrete.

“Piqué, Lillié, I’ve brought help.”

There was a faint bleat from the other side of the concrete, he supposed they were too distressed to do much else at the moment.

“Right, I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll try to push them back out.” Fakir nodded to Ahiru, who worriedly nodded back, before heading along the wall to the front.

Sneaking into the millionaire’s garden was easier than he supposed it would be from the wall. Judging from the way it opened up at the front of the house, the wall was specifically for keeping forest creatures out of the geraniums. Fakir was no judge, but the way the garden was set up looked like it was full of prize winning flowers and he did not want to ruin any of them. Fortunately the two Forest Folk weren’t far, Fakir rounded the corner and spotted them quickly.

“Hello, Ahiru’s friends,” he called out gently, not wanting to surprise the skittish creatures. In unison the two brightly colored heads turned to look at him with matching expressions of embarrassment, ears cocked forward to regard him curiously. Okay, so skittish was a premature assumption on his part. The writer quickly strode over to them, walking up to the nearest one and getting ready to help push it back out. The deer sniffed his hair and clothes curiously. “Ahiru, I’m ready.”

“Okay, who are you pushing first?”

“Uh… the blond one?”

“Huh?” Ahiru asked, her voice dripping with confusion.

“The one with yellow fur.”

“Oh, that’s Lillié. Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

Both deer were sniffing Fakir all over now, one of them playfully tugged on his shirt. “The two of you can stop with the act any time, anything you can do to help would be just fabulous.” He braced himself and got into position to help push the bright yellow deer. “Okay, now!” The writer and his Forest friend worked together and managed to get the yellow deer back over the other side of the wall.

“She’s free! Great! Now to get Piqué down.” Fakir’s only response to Ahiru’s glee was a grunt as he moved over to the plum colored deer. “Ready!” Called out Ahiru.

“Okay!” Called back Fakir, shoving against Ahiru’s other friend. This one moved much easier, either she wasn’t as stuck or the first one was helping too. Either way she was soon slipped over to the other side and Fakir decided to high tail it off whomever’s property this was.

On rounding the wall to head back towards the forest he was surprised to see Ahiru standing next to the same two brightly colored deer. “Thank you so much Fakir, I was so worried about them!”

“You are quite welcome. Though what were you two doing? Anyone who saw you would just assume you were trying to get at their garden for a nibble.” The two deer just wagged their tails as they eagerly leaned forward to sniff him again. Fakir rolled his eyes, “And you may as well cut out the innocent deer act. Normal deer aren’t bright yellow or plum colored.” He thought he heard a giggle as the two turned tail and bounded back into the forest.

“I should go with them, thanks again Fakir!” Ahiru waved as she turned and ran after her friends. Fakir waved back as he watched her go.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the massive amounts of AUs floating around on Tumblr, I decided to make my own mixing my love of fairy and folk tales and one of my favorite authors: L. M. Montgomery. Although I doubt she'd write this, I still had a lot of fun. Due to the nature of how this story came about the chapters are not in chronological order.


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